


Inferi & You: A Helpful Guide for Dealing With the Undead

by brighidg



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-03-13
Updated: 2011-03-13
Packaged: 2017-10-16 22:53:53
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,583
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/170267
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/brighidg/pseuds/brighidg
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Letting go of the past isn't always easy.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Inferi & You: A Helpful Guide for Dealing With the Undead

**Author's Note:**

> Much thanks to my betas. Nothing belongs to me, everything belongs to JKR, Warner Brothers, and Scholastic Books. Written for harry_holidays.

  
_Harpies Heroine To Marry Star Seeker!_   


Underneath the flashing headline was a picture of the Weasley girl in her Harpies uniform, running to jump into the arms of a waiting Viktor Krum. Draco had half a mind to copy the picture until he could cover every bare inch of Potter's cubicle walls with images of the happy couple.

“Malfoy!” There before him, dressed in scarlet \robes, stood the wonder duo of the Auror Department. Rather than looking heroic, however, Weasley looked confused and Potter downright sullen. With a furtive glance to his partner, Weasley continued, “Why are you here?”

“Is this your cubicle, Potter?” Draco asked as if he didn't already know the answer. Taking in their dress, he noted that Weasley had actually had his robes tailored to fit and wore slacks and oxfords like a real adult going to his job might. He had no doubt Granger had exerted her influence over his wardrobe though he supposed it was possible that Weasley had long ago to decided to celebrate having a steady income with clothes that weren't tatty hand-me-downs. Standing beside Weasley in his ill-fitting robes with the collar open to reveal a t-shirt underneath and his faded jeans and old sneakers peeking out from the hem, Potter looked like a schoolboy playing dress-up. “I should have guessed. It's a mess.”

“And to answer your question, Weasley, Greengrass has yet to return from her honeymoon. There was a problem on the trip, something about an incorrectly-charmed Portkey or the like. I wasn't really listening,” Draco admitted with a half-shrug. Despite his indifference to her traveling woes, he found working in the Death Chamber with Asteria to be a great improvement over his last two partners. She didn't stink up their office by eating an anchovies and horseradish sandwich twice a day - _every day_ \- nor did she feel the need to make awkward small talk by nattering on about the dietary habits of her Kneazles. Greengrass didn't speak much at all, in fact, at least to him. Instead she preferred dry, droning conversations about Arithmancy and fifth-dimensional maths with Goldstein.

Draco had once wondered how they could stand spending every lunch period re-hashing the same topics until he arrived early one morning to find a long equation filling up their blackboard. Greengrass had spent a good hour on the problem, until finally she arrived at the solution: U = M2 (Y)

It was then that Draco had realized he hadn't just been watching two people have the most boring conversations known to wizardkind but some strange form of Ravenclaw foreplay. The knowledge had been almost as charming as it was unsettling.

“But why are _you_ here?”

Draco opened his mouth to answer Weasley's question in the most snide way possible when Dawlish stole his thunder.

“He'll be giving the lecture today, I'm afraid.” A frowning Granger stood behind Dawlish, her frizzy hair looking as if a small woodland creature had taken to nesting in it despite her attempts to tame it into a bun.

“Couldn't find anyone else who knew the material on such short notice. Oh, but we're glad to have you,” he added quickly, with a insincere smile. Draco sneered at him though as Dawlish didn't spare him another glance, it didn't have much effect.

“Harry, I'm sorry to say I won't be around much of the day. Warlock Macmillan has requested I attend a meeting with him. Official business, y'know how it goes.”

Draco rolled his eyes. It was no secret that Dawlish was campaigning for the position of Head of the Magical Law Enforcement Department and had his lips firmly attached to the buttocks of several members of the Wizengamot, Macmillan included.

Dawlish clapped Harry on the shoulder, taking on an avuncular tone. “I trust I can leave things in your capable hands?”

“Of course,” he answered dully, looking every bit as impressed as Draco felt. “Sir.”

“Glad to hear it. Good day, you three.”

“Good-bye!” Weasley called with false cheer, adding in a dark undertone, “You brown-nosing toerag.”

“Ron!” Granger admonished, slapping her fiance's arm.

“Tsk, tsk. No way to talk about a superior, is it?” Draco was pleased to note that Weasley looked uneasy with him having overheard what he had just said.

“Why are you here?” he asked again, gesturing around him at the office.

“Were you hit with a Confundus Char--”

“I'm sure he just wants to talk to Harry about the lecture,” Granger interrupted. She tugged on Weasley's sleeve, somehow succeeding in pulling him back. “And I need _you_ to complete your report.”

He didn't seem satisfied with this answered but mumbled,“fine,” all the same. The pair left, Granger dragging Weasley behind her.

Without waiting to be invited in, Draco followed Potter into his cubicle, taking a seat in the chair near the entrance. Aside from the mess – parchment haphazardly left in piles on his desk, a half-empty bag of Bertie Bott's Every Flavor Beans next to the Self-Typing Typewriter, the dark purplish smear on his desk which Draco assumed was an ink stain – the pictures pinned to one wall were a dead give-away as to who this cubicle belonged to. The largest and most prominent was of Teddy Lupin in his cot, his hair changing from turquoise to black as he smiled at the camera. Next in size were two pictures: one of Potter surrounded by Weasleys and the other of the remaining Dumbledore's Army at the Leaky Cauldron. Unsurprisingly, Granger and Weasley flanked Potter in both pictures. The fourth and final picture was also the smallest and the oldest; it showed a couple embracing. From the looks of it, they must have been Potter's parents.

“Did you want something?” Potter asked, looking honestly surprised that he was still there. Draco wanted to punch him.

He held out his speech, newspaper still folded around it. “Since you are in charge today, _you_ need to look over my lecture notes. Make certain I haven't embedded any pro-Death Eater propaganda in a witty acrostic.”

“Okay,” Potter said slowly. His confusion confirmed what Draco had long suspected; that this wasn't standard operating procedure but just how Dawlish preferred to deal with him.

“ _Inferi & You: A Helpful Guide for Dealing With the Undead_.”

“I was pressed for time, I couldn't think of a better title.”

He pulled the pamphlet open. “There's a lot of pictures.”

“Yes. Going from what I've seen of your Aurors, I thought that a lot of bright, colorful images would best keep their interest. I wanted to do a pop-up,” Draco said, folding and unfolding his hands as if to demonstrate, “but again, not enough time.”

Potter's lips twitched as he handed over the notes and pamphlet. “I'm sure it'll be fine.”

Whatever humor there had been in his expression died when he caught site of his former fiancee and Krum.

“Well, isn't that nice?” he asked lightly, biting back his own jealousy over Potter's reaction. “Good to see some people are capable of moving on with their lives.”

Potter looked thunderous and Draco grinned. He wanted Potter's respect but he'd take his anger instead. Anything but being ignored.

“Unless there's something else,” Potter said evenly, handing the newspaper back to him, “I should get to work.”

“There is, now that you mention it. While I'd love to have you drop in and suck me off or bend me over the desk like you did yesterday--” Potter started at these words, clearly worried someone would overhear. Draco continued in a stage whisper. “Right. Forgot you don't want anyone to know you're a shirt-lifter with a taste for Death Eater cock. _Sorry._ Anyway, like I was saying, I'll be busy for the rest of the day with meetings so don't bother dropping by.”

His grin was as sharp as a blade. “See you around, Potter.”

~ * ~* ~ *** ~ *~ *~

His lecture drawing to a close, Draco was willing to concede that he had - _perhaps_ \- overreacted but that Potter was the one in the wrong. It wasn't as if he wanted a commitment or some flowery declaration of... whatever. He was simply tired of Potter passing him the halls without a second glance, tired of not even having a conversation in public lest someone see and grow suspicious. After a month, the pretense had grown tiresome.

Besides, it was all Potter's fault as he was the one who had started it.

A month ago, while at the Leaky, Draco had decided that he should take his parents' advice and offer an olive branch. It was the prudent thing to do, all things considered. After washing down his pride with half a bottle of Firewhisky, Draco had followed Potter outside and insulted his Quidditch skills, his parentage, and his hair.

Given their past, that wasn't surprising. Nor was it surprising that this led to a scuffle. What neither of them had expected was that the scuffle would lead to them pressed together in a dark alley, Draco pinned against the wall as Potter thrust against him, his cock hard and his breath hot on his neck as he licked and sucked.

He had assumed it would remain a drunken one-off until a few days after, at the end of the work day when most people had gone home, Potter followed him into the loo. It had obviously been Potter's first time giving a blow-job, not that Draco had cared. The sight of Harry Potter – still dressed in his Auror robes – on his knees with lips tight around Draco's cock and one hand pressed against the bulge in his jeans had been more than enough.

A few days after that, Draco had offered to deliver a report for his boss. Potter had invited him back to Grimmauld Place so they could look it over. They hadn't even made it to the bedroom, fucking on the stairs while his Aunt Wahlburga screamed about blood-traitors and sodomy until one of them had the presence of mind to hex the portrait's curtains shut.

And every day for the past two weeks, Potter had shown up at his office, spending his lunch break with him. Not just fucking but actually talking. When they tried, they got along rather well.

“That would be my professional recommendation for the most efficient way to deal with the Inferi left behind without unnecessary risk to those assigned to the task. Any questions?”

One hand shot up in the air.

“Yes, Auror Longbottom?”

“What's the difference between Zombies and Inferi?”

“I'm glad that you asked. Zombism is what is known as a viral curse,” Draco began. “Viral curses are very rare as they are often predictable. Zombies, unlike Inferi, are still alive. This is why they need to feed and will infect others in their attempt to do so. Though much of their brain is ravaged by the curse, not all of it is. This is why they can move very quickly over large distances and are seen attacking in packs. Zombies are also far easier to destroy, whether it be through use of a Killing Curse or with a weapon like a sword. Unfortunately, as there is no cure yet, killing them or letting them starve is the only option when dealing with them.”

He folded his notes, not needing them any longer. “Now, Inferi are the dead who have been re-animated through Necromancy. Unlike Zombies, they must be enchanted to attack and how and when. Otherwise, they will lay dormant. They have no need to feed, they cannot move quickly, they show no ability to think or plan but only to follow the orders already given to them. They cannot spread their curse, so every Inferius created must be done so by a witch or wizard. Finally, as already mentioned, they are very difficult to destroy. The only thing that seems to work is fire which is why I suggested sealing the cave, using a Drought Charm to drain the lake and then setting off a controlled Fiendfyre inside.”

Longbottom nodded and Draco pointed towards one of the three Aurors in the back who had spent most of the lecture talking to his mates. “Question?”

“How many Inferi did Voldemort,” at the name, Draco's hands fisted around his notes, “create?”

“As I've said, there's no way to know. From what Auror Potter has told us--”

“You don't know? The bloke was living in your house for a year, stamped you as one of his own, and you never heard _anything_?”

Potter whipped around to glare at the other Auror. “Clear off, Sloper.”

“The Dark Lord was not in the habit of sharing such information.” Turning his attention to the Auror sitting next to Sloper, Draco asked, “Yes? You have a question?”

“Why do you call him the Dark Lord? I thought only his sympathizers still did that.”

“Don't be a bleeding toss-pot, Harrington. Stick to the subject.” Just as Weasley said this, Potter asked loudly, “Does anyone have any questions about Malfoy's _lecture_ or his suggested plan?”

“I have one,” came another voice from the corner, belonging to a tall, sandy-haired Auror that Draco vaguely remembered as being a Hufflepuff two years below him. “How do we know this isn't some sort of a trap?”

Potter stood, standing in front of the small gathering, blocking Draco from them. “That's it. Sloper, Harrington, Hopkins: enjoy your time in Hogsmeade. You'll be spending the next two weeks helping the MLE's patrol for truants.”

“You're kidding me, Potter!”

“I'll make it three.”

Gathering his notes, Draco walked past Potter, pausing for only a few seconds to mutter, “Remind me to thank Dawlish for this opportunity.”

He was almost at the lifts when Potter caught up with him. “Malfoy, wait!”

Draco held up a hand to stop him. “Before you begin, let me remind you we are in public where people can and will see.”

“Don't start with that.”

“Don't start? Hmm.” Draco punched the buttons for the lift. “You know, for the longest time I wondered what exactly was your problem. If you just needed time to get over the Weasley girl what with five months not being enough or if maybe you were worried about your friends finding out even though I think Weasley has already figured it out and if he has, I guarantee that Granger has as well.”

“Will you shut up?”

Draco continued as if he hadn't spoken. “Then today, I realized that if Dawlish does get that promotion, you'll be the next Head of the Auror Department. Is that it, Potter?” He dropped his voice. “Worried they won't put a poofter in charge? Or maybe you're just worried you'll be seen as having a conflict of interest given how much you like having your dick in my mouth?”

He slammed his fist against the button. “Fuck this, I'll take the stairs.”

Potter was fast on his heels. “Malfoy, you are the most biggest arsehole I have ever met.”

“Is that so? Well, I could--”

His words were cut short by Harry's lips on his as he pushed him against the wall. Draco couldn't help giving a soft groan as Harry pushed his tongue past his parted lips, his body warm and hard against his. Only the sound of the lift doors opening and the shocked gasps that followed were enough to make Draco pull back.

“We're in public,” he murmured, his face hot. And this time people had definitely seen them; some still staring.

“I don't care,” Harry said before kissing him again.

 __

The End


End file.
